


Uncharted Territory

by Hammocker



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Post-Expiration Date, Pre-Slash, Shooting Guns, Shovel Talk, Sniper's a nicer dude than he lets on, Sniper's methods of teaching as contrasted with Spy's, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: Sniper hadn’t exactly expected this week to go the way it had. But then again, since he’d come to the desert compound, it was rare for a week to go exactly as expected. Scout being involved in unexpected events shouldn't have been surprising.
Relationships: Scout/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	Uncharted Territory

**Author's Note:**

> I'm poking my head in this fandom because I miss it real bad. Been playing a lot of TF2 again lately and it's so gooooooood. Even when I'm losing, I'm having a good time. And I love these boooys. It's been far too long, and I've changed a lot in terms of how I write and how I understand the characters, hopefully for the better. In any case, hope you enjoy this little fic. Sniper is underutilized in Expiration Date, but being quiet and expressing himself through action isn't unheard of given his character, and I figure that I can build on top of that. Not really acknowledging much of the comics, except one little thing that should become apparent if you're familiar.

Sniper waited.

In front of him, the whole team flailed as they took potshots at the monstrosity in front of them, doing all they could to keep it from devouring Scout and taking the whole compound down. Sniper was entirely tempted to whip out his SMG and do just the same, but he knew better. This wasn’t going to be like aiming at people, not at all, but it would be something like aiming at a rabid animal. It flailed and couldn’t decide its direction except for wanting to kill Scout. Sniper’s one directive in that moment was preventing that from happening.

Too close to rely on his scope, Sniper watched the thing first with his naked eye, anticipating, predicting where each flexible limb would be in the coming milliseconds. Then, when the moment was just right, he sucked in a breath and peered down his sightlines.

Then he took the shot.

*****

As the sun rose over the horizon, Sniper had taken it upon himself to give his rifle some well-earned care.

He hadn’t exactly expected this week to go the way it had. But then again, since he’d come to the desert compound, it was rare for a week to go exactly as expected.

He had the gun over his lap as he sat around his little campsite. It was a cool morning, intending to cook something decent for himself, he’d lit a fire in the pit. He wasn’t quite ready to start breakfast though, so instead, he busied himself easing any built up residue out of the barrel of his gun. The prior evening had been more exciting than usual, and even after a good night’s rest, he really needed the wind down. Keeping a cool head was absolutely necessary in his profession, and doing so was an active effort.

It was a bit like one of those hippie meditation rituals, he supposed. Like this, just him and his gun, he was able to empty his head of any unneeded thoughts and feelings. His gun and his job, that was all that mattered. And really, he very much needed to clear his head after the surreal message that they might only have three days to live, followed by the only logical conclusion: an enormous monstrosity of bread with jaws and tentacles coming out of every surface.

Well, all of that was over now, and he pushed all of it out of his mind.

Apparently it was a very effective form of meditation, as he didn’t notice a foreign presence right away.

“Hey, Sniper.”

He heard the words, but because they didn’t register a threat, Sniper didn’t react.

“Hey, yo, you in there, headshot?”

It was then that Scout came into his line of sight, less than a meter from his face.

Sniper blinked as his trance was broken. His eyes finally focused in on Scout, who’d cleaned himself up since yesterday. He was no longer covered in slimy wheat residue, but some bruising was still apparent on his face and arms. It was more than a little puzzling seeing Scout out at his van, but Sniper figured he wouldn’t stay long.

“Oh, g’day, lad,” Sniper greeted him.

“‘Bout time, jeez, thought you were havin’ a stroke or somethin’.”

Sniper chuckled at that. “Not today, not today.”

Sniper refocused on his gun after that, placing the barrel prod aside to focus on lubing up the magazine. He entirely expected Scout to leave as quickly as he’d come, as he would have on the battlefield, but that didn’t happen.

“So, uh,” Scout twiddled his thumbs as he considered what to say. A bit unusual for him. He was the type to run his mouth without a thought. “How you holdin’ up?”

Sniper hummed before he shrugged. “No worse for wear.”

“Y’sure? ‘Cause that was some real messed up crap last night.”

“You’d know better than I would. You were the one to see its insides after all.”

“Ah, that wasn’t so bad, mostly just dark and slimy and gross. I’ve seen worse come outta Demo after too much booze.”

That put a small smile on Sniper’s face. “Can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

Seeing as any token concern would have been satisfied by now, again, Sniper expected Scout to piss off back to the compound. No such luck. Instead, Scout just kept standing there, staring at Sniper like he had something more on his mind.

“I’m gettin’ the impression that you’re not just passing by, lad.”

“What, passin’ by into the desert?” Scout quipped. “I don’t got a friggin’ death wish.”

It was just a little bit odd to hear the most obvious reason why Scout shouldn’t have been out visiting him come straight out of Scout’s mouth. Despite that, he was no closer to sussing out a motive for Scout being there. Really, Sniper wasn’t especially interested in as much, but, strangely, he found that he wasn’t annoyed enough to send the kid on his way.

“Well, if you’re intending to stay, y’may as well sit,” Sniper offered, gesturing to the lawn chair closest to his own.

“Sure,” Scout said as he took up the offer. “Sounds good.” Before Sniper could return to working on his gun, Scout was running his mouth, “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“I live here,” Sniper said, a sardonic edge to his voice as he gestured to his van. “And I’m trying to clean my gun before breakfast.”

“Oh. Cool. Breakfast sounds nice.”

“Think I have more business asking what you’re doing out here,” Sniper said, gazing purposefully at Scout. “Thought you would have been with Pauling, seeing as you had your heart set on her.”

At the mention of Miss Pauling, Scout flinched and his eyes drifted to the fire pit.

“Yeah, well-” Again, Scout stumbled to start, biting his lip as he looked for words. “Been kinda hard, y’know, me and her being real busy and crap.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, lad,” Sniper said, more out of courtesy than sympathy. It had been his impression for a long while that whatever went on between Scout and Pauling was doomed to end in heartbreak. “Love ain’t easy in this business.”

“Thanks, thanks,” Scout said before pivoting to a different subject. “That’s what I came here for, actually. To tell you thanks. You really saved my ass back there.”

Sniper was- Well, for a moment, he was a bit stunned, and couldn’t think of what to say to that. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had thanked him for anything, not with words anyway. It was nice to hear, he had to admit, but not exactly plausible. Scout wouldn’t have come out to see him just to tell him thanks. At least, Sniper didn’t think he would have, just like he didn’t think any of his teammates would have.

Playing it safe, Sniper shook his head. “Me? I hardly did a thing.”

“Nah, if you hadn’t got that thing when you had, I woulda been toast.” Scout paused before chuckling at his own words. “Uh, wasn’t trying to make a pun there.”

Sniper chose to ignore the little faux pas. “No worries. Just doing my job.”

“You kidding? Think that’s the best shot I ever seen you land,” Scout insisted, before putting his hands behind his head. “Wish I could land that kinda shot.”

Sniper scoffed at that. “You could. Not like I got to be an assassin in a day.”

“Psh, yeah, sure I could,” Scout said, rolling his eyes. “You’re full’a crap, you know that?”

Sniper quirked his brow. He was many things, but he didn’t consider himself a dishonest type. That wasn’t what sniping was about. No masks, no disguises, no lies, just a single shot.

“If you’d like, I’ll prove it to you,” he said, slotting his rifle’s magazine back into its proper place.

Scout squinted at him like he’d grown a kangaroo head. “You serious right now?”

“Well, if you ain’t up for some shooting-”

“No, no, I’m up for it,” Scout said, getting to his feet. “Just tell me what to do.”

Sniper took a long look at Scout, wondering if he was getting himself into something he’d come to regret. Still, he was a man of his word. Sniper stood up as well, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

“For starters, follow me.”

*****

The shooting range was almost never used by anyone of either team. Cardboard cutouts lacked the same satisfaction of proper combat, but for Scout’s first time sniping, they’d have to do.

“You’re sure about this?” Scout asked, standing at the front of the range and glancing back at Sniper with a skeptical stare.

He was holding Sniper’s precious rifle like one of his scatterguns, far too low for the job it was meant to do, as though the enemy’s whole body was right in front of him.

“Hike the gun up now,” Sniper instructed, ignoring Scout’s question. “So you can see down the scope.”

It didn’t escape Sniper’s attention that Scout’s arms shook a bit as he followed the instruction. The gun was a bit heavier than Scout’s regular fare, but, more than that, the weight of the gun was balanced differently. 

“Uh, I can see,” Scout said, staring down the scope and turning himself left and right as he scanned the range.

“Easy now, it’s not a bat,” Sniper chided. “Focus forward before you go doing 180s.”

“Alright, forward then.” Scout returned to his initial direction “So, there’s a Demo and a Heavy in front’a me?”

“Sharp as a billy club,” Sniper teased. “Doesn’t matter much what they are right now. You just breathe in and go for one of their heads.”

“Right. Breathin’, that’s easy,” Scout said before taking in a too-fast breath through his mouth.

Sniper held back from correcting him on the right way to breathe, and merely observed his approach. Scout stared down the scope, all the while trying to force his hand to be steady.

Apparently without much luck. Scout pulled the trigger, and a loud crack sounded almost as quickly as a _ping_ against the back wall.

“Crap.”

Scout fired again, a little too soon after ejecting the bullet casing. Again a complete miss.

“Dammit.”

The third shot saw no more training dummy flesh than the last, but it did see the inside of a derelict turbine.

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?!”

He wasn’t even three shots in and already Scout seemed ready to throw the rifle down for good. He was drawn up, tense, yet still not entirely steady with the rifle.

“Ease up, lad,” Sniper told him. “No one gets it right on a first try.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” Scout bit back, his pout apparent in his voice. “You’re popping heads left and right out there.”

“Sure, sometimes,” he agreed, nodding. “But when you’re out there, pushing the front lines, you see the shots I hit more than the ones I don’t.”

Scout unscoped, and glanced back at Sniper with a cocked brow. “Wait, you’re just admitting to me that you miss shots?”

“Of course I miss shots,” Sniper said with a low chuckle. “Like to think I hit more than I miss, but both are a part of the job.”

“No, I’m just saying like, aren’t you supposed to keep up a reputation or something?” Scout fully turned to face him, pointing the rifle downward. “Spy was tellin’ me that you’re not supposed to let on that you ain’t perfect or some crap. Ruins the mysterious schtick chicks dig.”

Sniper hummed. What Spy had tried to teach the lad didn’t seem to have taken root. There was hope for him yet.

“You bought what he was selling then, eh?” Sniper asked, a wry smile crossing his lips.

“Bought what?”

“That Spy knows everything there is to know just ‘cause of that ‘mysterious schtick’ of his.”

“No!” Scout yelped immediately, like a wounded animal. He turned back towards the range, rushing the rifle’s scope back up to his eye. “‘Course not, what’re you talking about? That fruity baguette doesn’t know nothin’.”

Sniper crossed his arms, unimpressed by Scout’s attempt at bravado. “Mm, you’re onto something there. But you still spent three days with him, taking his word.”

“Yeah? So what?” Scout deflected. “He knows stuff about being a chick magnet at least.”

Another shot, another hole, this time through a cardboard box. Sniper couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for the lad.

“Sure he does,” Sniper acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean he’s always right.”

“What? You think you coulda done better?”

“I don’t think you needed three days of bootcamp just to ask our dear Miss Pauling for some one-on-one time.”

“Jeez, you really don’t get it, do you?” Scout said. “I can’t just- She’s-” He hesitated to fire off another shot, his gaze drifting down to the floor. “She’s way outta my league, you know?”

Well, it seemed that Scout’s claim of being “too busy” was another one of Scout’s blustery fibs.

“Out of your league?” Sniper echoed with a laugh. His mind turned to the time he’d seen Pauling covered in blood and muck, but still carrying a briefcase she’d brought back for the Administrator. “You two are in the same line of work, you know. She’s hardly a princess who needs pampering.”

“Yeah, but- whenever I try to talk to her, I...” Scout trailed off, grumbling as he searched for words. “I never had any problems talkin’ to girls, never! I mean, look at me, I’m a real lady’s man. No offense to you, but there ain’t a contest.”

Sniper resisted the urge to chuckle. Scout was still very much himself despite everything. Funny in all the ways he didn’t intend to be.

“Then I meet Pauling and I think she’s so damn cool and hot, but whenever I try to talk to her, I just-” Scout hesitated, as though the realization was only just hitting him. “I think’a all the ways I’ll screw up, so I don’t say nothing.”

Scout trailed off, but Sniper got the idea. He sighed as he felt something a little beyond pity stir in his stomach. He didn’t like to get involved, didn’t like to get attached or feel anything for the people around him. It made the prospect of having a plan to kill those people harder to stomach. Yet he found it impossible to ignore what this kid was going through. Scout, the obnoxious little loudmouth, allowing Sniper to see something very different from the attitude he usually wore around.

“If you’re sure you’ll screw up, you will,” Sniper told him. “I’d say that’s what’s holding you back, not being out of anyone’s league.”

“Ah, you don’t get it,” Scout insisted. “Don’t know why I bothered with you.”

Sniper’s lip twisted a bit in offense, and he only grew more sour as Scout moved to discard his beloved rifle. Determined to prove his point, he strode up behind Scout and touched his sides first, letting him know Sniper’s position. It garnered a slight flinch, but he didn’t fire off the gun. That was good to know; at the very least. Scout wasn’t quite as trigger happy as he seemed.

Despite that, Scout was still tense and defensive. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sniper ignored his words in favor of placing his own hands where Scout’s were, and adjusting his grip to steady the weapon. Scout hissed as he was touched and Sniper’s body covered his own, but he wasn’t moving to get away either. Sniper had seen him squirm out of Heavy’s grasp more than once, so he figured that he at least wasn’t unwelcome.

“Let me show you something,” he murmured. “Keep on adjusting your aim, don’t get cold feet now.”

“Yeah, alright, sure,” Scout said as he seemed to get some nerve back into himself.

Sniper could feel Scout’s movements now, every little arch and pivot. He wasn’t directing Scout’s aim, only helping him better account for the weight distribution of the rifle. Offering the kid an experienced, steady hand for his first time with the rifle. Still, even with Scout’s hand shaking neutralized, he was still sloppy, unpracticed, imprecise.

All of those things were remedied with time and experience, but the same couldn’t be said for the last thing Sniper felt: uncertainty. Doubt in his own two eyes. Doubt that, according to Scout, was eating at him on more matters than one.

“Let’s start fresh, shall we?” Sniper rumbled into his ear. “I’m not here and you’re not training.”

Scout didn’t reply, but his tension didn’t get any worse either. Sniper took that as a cue to continue.

“Think about being out there, on the battlefield,” he said, hoping it would get Scout into a better state of mind. “Nothing unusual happening, shots being fired, rockets being launched, but you’re ready for anything. You don’t always follow one set formula, do you?”

Scout hesitated, puzzled, but willing to play along. “Uh, no. Guess not.”

“‘Course not. No one situation is the same as another. You’ll find common factors, sure, but never arranged quite the same. That doesn’t faze you, does it?”

Scout scoffed, getting some of that trademark confidence back. “No. No way.”

Scout relaxed, if only just a bit, and leaned more comfortably into Sniper as he took better advantage of the extra support. Not that Sniper minded, but it was striking how warm the kid was. Then again, it had been a while since he’d been this close to another, live human being. He felt Scout move to start aiming the gun once again, and Sniper couldn’t help but smile. The lad had an assassin in him somewhere, underneath a lot of pretense and uncertainty and inexperience.

“I didn’t think so,” Sniper said, continuing on the pointed ego stroking. “You’re sharp in a fight. You know to consider your priorities, seize opportunities.”

“You got that right,” Scout murmured, even as he remained laser-focused.

That was when Sniper threw his curveball, the one he’d been building up to. “But, more important than any of that, you need to trust in yourself.”

Scout took his eye away from the scope then, and before Sniper could chide him, their eyes met. Sniper didn’t think he’d ever seen Scout’s eyes this close, not even through his scope. He’d never noticed the little dark specks in his irises. Why would he? That wasn’t important to his job. Sniper found his eyes drifting down to Scout’s lips, thin and uncertain as they were. It was a very different sight than Scout out in the field, a sight that Sniper was sure next to no one else had ever seen. Scout’s emotions were clear on his face: he wasn’t certain if he even trusted Sniper let alone himself, and he was scrutinizing Sniper for any signs of mockery.

It occurred to Sniper that that was probably what he went through with Spy. Being made fun of even as he tried his best. And where had that gotten anyone?

Instead of that, Sniper gave him a small, encouraging smile. “You _can_ do this, lad,” Sniper said, hoping that it was the right thing to say.

Scout blinked, seemingly surprised by that, like no one had ever said anything like it to him. He smiled, a toothy half smile that lacked any of the lad’s usual smugness. It was almost- Well, the closest analogue Sniper had was when Scout was looking at Pauling, but it wasn’t quite the same as that either. It was more self-assured, more absolute. Sniper wasn’t able to decipher it precisely in that moment, and, really, he should have been more concerned about it than he was. His mind, however, was set on a goal, and he knew that that was the kind of confidence Scout needed to make a shot.

To prove his point, Sniper shut his eyes then, leaving no possibility for his intervention in aiming. After all, if he didn’t have faith in Scout, why should Scout have faith in himself?

With the crutch of Sniper’s eyes gone, he briefly feared that Scout would panic himself into choking once more. But once that first wave of shock passed, Sniper felt him relax, if only just a bit. He let his shoulders ease down and his movements as he pointed the gun were far smoother.

“Deep breath, nice and slow.”

Scout took the advice properly this time, breathing in steadily until his chest must have been full and puffed out. That was when things finally seemed to fall into place. With his eyes closed, Sniper was able to pick up the sound and sensation of Scout’s heart beating, slowing as he held in his breath. Sniper too held his breath, telling himself that it was so as not to interfere with Scout’s shot, but it seemed like more than that. The two of them seemed to melt together in that moment, their bodies and skill sets becoming a single entity.

Sniper could only pray that it meant that confidence and maybe just a little bit of luck was rubbing off on the kid.

All at once, the air cracked around them as the rifle fired. Sniper was used to the ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t deny that the sound was deafening, especially after a long stretch of quiet. He could just barely pick out something crumbling as the bullet hit, but he couldn’t have said what. As soon as Scout spoke, though, he knew.

“Holy crap,” Scout breathed. 

Sniper opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was thin smoke from the barrel of his gun, and then, past that, a headless Demoman dummy. A sympathetic rush of adrenaline coursed through him.

“Boom,” he rumbled. “Headshot.”

Scout turned his head to look at Sniper again, and they locked eyes for the second time. What a sight he was. His jaw was hanging open like a fish out of water, and, well, maybe that was a pretty accurate description. He was in awe, clearly, amazed that he’d accomplished more than hitting a wall. 

Part of Sniper might have scoffed at his reaction, seeing as hitting a stationary target was nothing to him, but he remembered starting out. He remembered what it felt like just to hit a fat rabbit munching on grass, not even 30 meters away. It was exhilarating and new and he felt a bit of it again as he looked at Scout’s face.

Scout shifted to turn around, and even as he turned to face Sniper, Scout wasn’t looking at him. He closed his mouth and tightened his jaw. There was that stain of uncertainty creeping its way back in. By now, Sniper would have expected him to have picked up some proper confidence, the type that he could feel down deep instead of what he projected out. Scout had to have known he’d made the shot in his gut, had to be feeling it just the way Sniper had, but he was fighting it. The pity that Sniper had felt earlier was tinged with annoyance now.

“How- how’d you-?” Scout stammered as he looked for words, eyes scanning his intently.

“I didn’t do a thing, lad,” Sniper told him right out. “Had my eyes closed when you took that shot.”

Scout glared at him then, self-doubt turning into defiance. “You’re bullshitting me.”

Once again, Sniper was being accused of being some sort of liar, a sneak, as though he’d got Scout’s hopes up under false pretenses. If that had been the case, then Sniper might understand, but he’d given Scout no reason to think as much, and the continued insistence was making him grit his teeth.

“Ah, don’t give me that rubbish,” Sniper growled back, curling his lip.

He was ready to chew the runt out, but as he reached out to take his gun back, Scout flinched like he was about to be hit. It was for the briefest of instants, with Scout returning to a hardened glare seconds later, but it was there. It was strange; Sniper wouldn’t have thought twice about it on the battlefront, but here, it was different. They weren’t in a fight, they were- Well, they were something else here. Seeing that was enough to soften Sniper’s next words, if only just a bit.

“You know as well as I do that you earned that shot,” he said, taking his rifle and pointing it to the ground. “And sure, it wasn’t a hard shot, but you still earned it, fair and square.”

The even-handed approach seemed to work, as Scout’s glare softened to a pout in turn.

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “After I missed a crapton.”

“Sometimes you only need one good shot.”

“You’re-” Scout was staring at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “You actually mean all’a that. Don’t you?”

Well, even if Scout still had a-ways to go as far as inner confidence, that was a start.

He gave a crooked but honest smile, and reached out to give Scout a little shove to the shoulder. “Finally catching on, eh?”

Scout returned the smile, a similar earnest, if a little cheesy look.

“Hey, you’re alright, you know that?” he said. “Seriously, thanks.”

Sniper gave a modest wave of his hand. “No worries, lad.”

“Uh, did you wanna hit the mess hall?” Scout asked. “I know you don’t eat with us most of the time, and they might try to feed us bread tumors and crap, but, you know, it’d be real cool to have you.”

Sniper blinked, as surprised as he was flattered. He usually liked to eat on his own - preferably food he’d hunted and gathered himself - but he had to admit that a change of pace might be nice. Although...

“Sure,” Sniper said, glancing around. He had the strangest feeling in his gut all of a sudden. “You go on, and I’ll be along in a bit. Something I need to check first.”

“What, did I mess up your gun or somethin’?” Scout asked, curt, but not aggressive.

“No, no, nothing like that, lad,” Sniper said, shaking his head. “I’ll be along soon. Promise.”

Scout hesitated just briefly before he nodded. “Alright. Just don’t flake out or nothin’.”

“‘Course not,” Sniper reassured him as his gut feeling ever-increasingly demanded he turn around. “Get going then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya around.”

Scout finally turned to take his leave, and a walk quickly turned to a run, like he couldn’t help but go everywhere as fast as his legs would carry him. Sniper gave a final fond chuff; the lad was something else alright.

Sniper turned at last and combed the firing range with his eyes, finding nothing. No surprise there.

“Mind telling me how long you’ve been watching us?” Sniper said, his voice echoing through the room.

A beat and then the air seemed to boil and blur in front of Sniper’s eyes. It was hard to discern a shape for a long second, but Sniper knew exactly what the strange effect meant. Sure enough, the lanky shape that was Spy promptly took form in front of him. Just what he hated to see.

“Long enough to have nearly been shot,” Spy said, glancing towards the catwalk that surrounded the range.

“Never stand in a sniper’s sight lines, mate. Even under your little cloak,” Sniper warned darkly. “Provokes us.”

“Us being you and the boy?”

Sniper blinked. Spy was trying to suss something out here, but he wasn’t entirely sure what or, more importantly, why.

“Sure,” he said, cautiously honest. “He’s got potential.” 

“So you intend to make him into an assassin such as yourself?”

“I don’t _intend_ to do anything,” Sniper corrected him. “He didn’t think he could snipe. I proved him wrong. That’s all.”

Spy was silent as he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit one of his seemingly ever-present cigarettes.

“You oughta be glad for all the gun smoke out on the battlefields,” Sniper commented, wrinkling his nose at the sour tobacco stench. “Else even Pyro could smell you coming.”

“You and the Scout have more in common than expected,” Spy said, eying Sniper sharply as he blew smoke his way. “Tell me, do you say that based on my smoking or, like your little friend would, my nationality?”

“Do you want something, Spy?” Sniper asked, hardly in the mood for trading verbal blows, and certainly not any of Spy’s games.

“Not today, no,” Spy said before taking a long drag, stalling thoughtfully. “I only wished to begrudgingly congratulate you.”

“Oh, aces,” Sniper deadpanned.

“It’s impressive,” Spy continued unabated. “You taught him more in half an hour than he learned from me over three days.”

“So why congratulate me and not him?” Sniper asked. “I hardly did a thing.”

“Oh, please,” he said exhaling a breath of smoke. “His ego is big enough.”

Sniper gave a rough hum. There was more to it than that, he was sure. For Spy to have taken Scout on as a pupil in what he’d thought were his last days was proof enough of that. Still, it was hardly his business.

What had been made his business, however, was Scout’s ego. To put it more accurately, Scout’s projection of ego. His bluster. Either Spy wasn’t very perceptive or he was deflecting, and Sniper wouldn’t have been surprised at either.

“I’d say that attitude’s what kept him from learning your little tricks,” Sniper said, blunt, but not as dismissive as he’d been previously.

“You would suggest holding his hand?” Spy said, a strange look in his eye. “Stroking his ego?”

Sniper cocked his eyebrow, and he was sure that Spy was implying something less-than-savory.

“What do you care if I do?” Sniper probed. “You got a thing for him? That why you had him ‘seduce you’?”

Spy’s face twisted with offense for an instant before he scoffed. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said as he tossed his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his no-doubt expensive shoes. “You being a simple-minded bushman.”

“Watch it, _mate_ ,” Sniper hissed, lifting his rifle up. “Clear mind leaves plenty of room for good aim.”

“So long as whatever happens between you and him does not compromise our work, then we have no reason to shoot each other.” Spy pulled his arms behind his back with a half-smile, half-frown. “But if that changes - if Scout is compromised _in any way_ \- then your life may become even rougher than it already is.”

“Is that a threat?” Sniper demanded, drawing his shoulders up. Spy always peeved him, but this was a step too far.

“Not a threat,” Spy said, his lips turning up in a dark smile. “Only a promise. You should fulfill yours.”

Before Sniper could ask what the bloody hell Spy meant by that and why, Spy’s form was fading into the aether again. Then, with a puff of light smoke, he was gone, off to who knew where.

Sniper blinked and bit the right side of his bottom lip, perplexed. It wasn’t like Spy to make outward threats, and certainly not on anyone else’s behalf. Not anyone but his employer’s behalf, and certainly not Scout’s. By all of what Sniper observed of the two, Spy couldn’t stand the ankle biter. Sniper might have said that he was in the same camp, but somehow both of them had taken valuable time to train Scout. The whole circumstance was odd, to say the least.

Sniper let out a rough breath. He wasn’t paid enough to try putting this puzzle together, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe he’d have to do a little digging on the subject, if he had the patience. Find out a little more about Scout and Spy.

Standing alone in the range, Sniper found that he couldn’t get the image of Scout’s face just before he’d taken his one good shot. That one expression just on the cusp between placing his full trust in Sniper as well as the anxiety he felt doing so. The look of someone about to take the first step in new, uncharted territory.

He would have liked to see that face again sometime, he realized. If that was even possible.

Putting the thought on the backburner of his mind, Sniper turned to exit the range and head after Scout. Thinking was calorie-intensive work and he was still yet to have breakfast, even if that breakfast happened to be mutated bread remains.

Talk about stepping into new territory. Sniper wasn’t sure he’d eaten with the rest of his team in months. It seemed that both he and Scout would be getting out their comfort zones today.


End file.
